Finding the Lost

The high of actually being full was gone and the familiar hunger pangs were back. Not as bad as before, but not pleasant. It was easy to drown them out when he was working, and he had plenty of work to do. Not only did Nika’s situation require his full attention, but he also had to figure out how such pure bloodlines had gone unnoticed. First Helen’s, now Andra’s and Nika’s. If they could find more women like them, he might be able to save his people from starvation.

It was more hope than he’d had in decades.

“Are you going to share with me, brother?” asked Connal. He handed Tynan a jug of saline to clean out the system of tubes and make sure all the precious blood went into the Sanguinar.

Tynan regarded the young-looking man. Connal had never called him brother before. How odd that he would now. “When you are asleep and helpless as a babe, I will feed you. Until then, you must find your own food. There are plenty of blooded humans in the compound. Ask them to sustain you.”

“None of their blood runs as pure as the blood I smelled coming from your veins. The power must feel incredible.”

Connal’s eyes were too bright. Too greedy. Perhaps it was time for him to sleep. Any Sanguinar who became too desperate became a liability. Their kind could not afford any more weakness than they already suffered.

“I’ll send someone to relieve you of your guard duty while you find sustenance,” said Tynan as he left the chamber.

He barely managed to close the heavy door, and by the time he did, he was shaking with effort.

He wasn’t going to last much longer before he, too, had to sleep. Before then, he had to find out how to save his people from starvation, and these women were the key.

He’d made sure of that as he’d fed from Andra—altered her slightly to ensure his kind would be fed.

Tynan didn’t particularly like manipulating people, but he’d had no choice. His people were starving and he’d been desperate to take action while he had the chance. Paul was a formidable warrior and he had plenty of time alone to taint Andra’s perception of his race. The Theronai looked down on the Sanguinar—thought of them as barbaric for their need to drink blood.

Tynan had not asked to be born like he was—unable to live without the blood of others. He’d been a victim of his parents’ choices the same as any other child. He could no more help his blood thirst than a deformed child could help their birth defect. It was not fair that his people should suffer, and it was his job to see that they survived.

He’d done the only thing he could while Paul was so busily distracting Andra with his kisses. He only prayed that what he’d done to her would work. The Sanginar were running out of time, and the remaining traces of the Solarc’s blood in human bloodlines were too weak to sustain his race any longer.

He’d had no choice. He’d done what he was forced to do. He hoped that one day, if she ever learned of his manipulation, Andra would see that and forgive him.

Chapter 21

Madoc woke to the sight of Nicholas’s worried face and wished like hell he’d stayed asleep. His head pounded more than normal, which, combined with all that spinning, made his stomach give a dangerous heave.

He had no idea what was wrong. Maybe he’d fallen and bashed his head, or taken a hit in combat hard enough to rattle his brains. Wouldn’t have been the first time.

Then it came back to him. Tynan. He’d given the leech his blood.

On the heels of that thought came an even more distressing one. “How long have I been out? How’s the girl?”

Nicholas frowned in confusion. “Not long, and what girl?”

“Nika. Andra’s sister.”

Madoc pushed himself up to a sitting position and fought off another wave of twisting nausea. He was going to pound Tynan’s pretty face in next time he saw him for taking so much.

Then again, maybe that was what it was going to take to help Nika.

“I don’t know, man. I saw the camera go black and I was sure I was going to get here and find Tynan dead on the floor. Instead it was you lying there. What happened?”

“None of your fucking business,” growled Madoc.

“Did you hit him? Slam him into the door?”

“No.”

Nicholas rubbed a hand over his face and looked at the door leading to the Sanguinar wing. “Then what the hell happened?” he asked.

Madoc turned his head slowly so it wouldn’t spin away and saw the ruins of the steel door. It looked like it had been blown open with a battering ram. The metal was deformed and torn away where the lock had once been. “Dunno,” said Madoc.

Maybe Tynan had consumed some of Madoc’s pain when he’d taken his blood and it had pissed him off. Served the fucker right, if that was the case.

“I wish you hadn’t killed my camera. That would have been quite a show. You sure you don’t know?”

Madoc ignored the question. “You got any of those cameras in Paul’s suite?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

“Why don’t you just go see the girl if you’re that worried?”

“Her sister won’t let me.” It sounded like a lame excuse to him. Since when did he let a woman boss him around?

Probably since she was right. He had no business around Nika. If she’d been his lady, it would be different, but she wasn’t.

Madoc looked at his ring for the millionth time, just to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. The colors were still the same. Muted, faded, nearly motionless. Dying.

“Do you think you’re compatible?” asked Nicholas in a reverent tone.

“No.” Madoc pushed himself to his feet, using the wall to steady himself. The dizziness eased, but not much. He needed liquids and plenty of them if he was going to refill what Tynan had taken.

Nicholas looked at his own ring, which swirled with lots of color. He still had plenty of time, and Madoc resented him for it. “I haven’t gotten to meet her yet. Joseph has ordered us all to stay away until she’s better.”

If she ever got better. No one seemed to be doing anything to help her, and it pissed Madoc off. “Do you have one of those master keys on you?”

Nicholas frowned, making the small scars on his face pucker. “Always. Why?”

“I need one.”

“And you expect me to just hand it over?”

Madoc slammed Nicholas against the wall and held him there by his shoulders. He tried to cover up how unsteady he was—how close he was to puking all over the man’s shoes. “Unless you’d prefer I take it from you.”

Nicholas wasn’t the least bit scared. The fucker. “What are you going to do with it?” he asked, totally unconcerned by his position.

“None of your fucking business.”

“Seems a lot of things fall into that category with you.” Nicholas moved quicker than Madoc’s fuzzy head could follow, and a second later Madoc was against the wall face-first. Nicholas had him pinned there, his thick forearm right at the base of Madoc’s skull.

“I’ll ask you again,” said Nicholas in a patient tone. “What are you going to do with it?”

The urge to fight rose up inside Madoc, screaming for release. The constant pressure inside him pounded at him to let go and tear into Nicholas. It would feel so good to give in and drive his fists into something. Vent some of his rage that Nika wasn’t his and never would be. She couldn’t save him.

“You could try it,” whispered Nicholas, apparently knowing what Madoc was thinking. “Normally, I’d say you’d have even odds, but not today. You’re weak. I can feel your legs shaking just holding you up. I’d have you on the ground and bleeding in seconds, and that’s not going to get any of us anywhere. So why don’t we pretend we’re gentlemen and you tell me why you want the key?”

Madoc’s teeth bit into his lip as his face was mashed harder against the wall. He couldn’t even stop it from happening. Nicholas was right. He was weak. His only choice was to play nice. Not his strong suit. “I just want to be near her in case they need help.”

“What the hell makes you think they’d want your help?”

“They don’t. That’s why I need the key.”

“I’m not going to let you into Paul’s suite where you can go causing more trouble.”

“I don’t want inside Paul’s suite. Just the one next door. I swear.”

The pressure against Madoc’s neck eased as Nicholas backed away. Madoc turned in time to see him drop a plastic key card on his way down the hall.

“I’ll be watching,” said Nicholas without turning around. “Kill another camera and I’ll make you eat it.”

Andra couldn’t seem to make that magic stuff work anymore. She could feel the invisible strand of power connecting her to Paul, but she couldn’t seem to do anything with it. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t find a way inside Nika’s head. She wanted to help her, get her to wake up, maybe eat again, but nothing she tried worked. Maybe she was just too tired, or maybe Paul needed to be closer to her.

Maybe she just didn’t have what it took to do the job.

Her eyes burned and her knees ached—a sure sign she was nearing the end of her strength. Again.

Andra laid her head on the pillow next to Nika’s and prayed for her weakness to abate. Just for a while.

The room was quiet, restful. The muted blues and greens reminded her of the ocean on a calm day. There was no clutter in here, just the bare necessities of a bed, bedside table, and dresser. Even though it had the feel of disuse, nothing was dusty or stale.

Nika was safer here than she’d ever be in Andra’s home. Paul had sworn to her that no Synestryn had ever breached their magical defenses. Even if one of the people here bled, the monsters couldn’t smell it.

Andra felt the weight of despair flattening her heart, and she tried to remind herself that there was still hope. Tynan was researching a cure. Sibyl might be able to see what they needed to do.

There was still hope. She just had to be patient, give these people time to work their magic.

Andra watched the even rise and fall of Nika’s chest. She was calm and still. Peaceful. At least Nika wasn’t suffering. If she had been, patience wouldn’t have been an option.

Paul rapped his knuckles lightly on the doorframe of the bedroom, making Andra jump. She hadn’t heard him come back, but she was so glad to see him. She wanted to rush into his arms and let him hold her. He was the only person who seemed to make some of her anguish go away, and she really could use a little of that right now.

She sat up on the bed and saw that his handsome face was lined with concern and something else. Something deeper that worried her.

Without thinking about it, she poked around in his thoughts, looking for the source. She wasn’t very good at this, and she could catch only bits and pieces, but she saw Joseph’s angry face at the forefront of Paul’s mind.

She brushed up against a writhing mass of aching emotion and recognized it for what it was. Guilt. She’d felt it herself too often not to know it instantly. He felt like he’d made some kind of mistake—one that couldn’t be erased.